


a memoir through your lips

by grandstander



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic, First Kiss, Fluff, Kisses, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 00:24:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11702940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grandstander/pseuds/grandstander
Summary: a collection of five kisses.





	a memoir through your lips

**Author's Note:**

> hello! i'm back with more dargar fluff. as you can probably tell, fluff is my favorite, hence why i write it so much. i had the urge to write some kisses between them, so i did, and here we are. again i'll put the usual disclaimer up here that this is based off my concepts of garen and darius that i share with my friend kris, so it may seem out of character to you. regardless i enjoy writing them this way. 
> 
> there are some vague references to one of my prior fics, "the end of a half life," and these kisses follow the same 'canon' from that AU. the fourth kiss has a headcanon about demacian greetings between loved ones and family, and the fifth one is a headcanon for noxian greetings of the same kind. 
> 
> well, with that said, do enjoy!

**i.**

His lips are chapped, but they’re warm, and soft. Garen’s never kissed anyone so he has nothing else to compare it to, but the kiss itself is chaste and leaves him feeling light. Rarely did he chase love, something he felt far too frivolous; it was easier if he kept himself wholly within, in case he would be arranged to marry later on in his life. That’s what he had learned, that’s what he had prepared himself for. It was so utterly freeing to tilt his head upwards and follow his heart for once, to kiss Darius.

Being kissed by Garen was like a dream, one he’d craved deep within his heart for so long. Before Garen had brought his sword down upon him and taken his eye, before he had buried all his sorrow and heartbreak into the Captain’s side because he loved him even before then. And after it all, after dragging through the pain of growth and watching Garen become something fuller, something better, to become the man Darius believed he could be, he felt as if his very heart might burst from his chest.

Darius had loved him first, but Garen had kissed him first.

He took a breath in slowly, reminds himself to clench his fist and continue to be present, that the look in Garen’s eyes and the warm hue to his cheeks were not imagined. He doesn’t want to let it go, he doesn’t want that to be their only kiss, and for once he slowly bends to his heart because there is now the hope that his love has seen him.

Darius chases his lips, kissing Garen once again, his rough hands coming up to gently hold the other man’s cheek while pressing softly against him. Garen’s heart in turn thunders within his chest, color rushing to his skin but he bends to it, too.

There has been so much time building up to a moment of courage, so much care to cultivate a moment of release for their final epilogue of freedom. Darius does not relent, pressing soft kisses continually to Garen’s lips. Garen can feel himself promptly overflowing, the newness of all this leaving him feeling exposed, as if he is bare and his entire chest is open for his flustered beating heart to be seen by all (but mostly, seen and felt by the man in front of him).

“Darius,” he says softly in between kisses, and when the General finally raises his head and opens his eye, the bright blush on the other man’s cheeks is undisputed. There’s a slight quirk of one corner of Darius’ lips in response, his thumb brushing Garen’s cheek (truthfully, it’s an endearing sight).

A quiet inhale comes from Garen, his gaze falling momentarily, but he doesn’t pull himself away or push the other man. He is so new to love, to feeling his own beating heart underneath his once stone skin. “Forgive me,” Garen finally says to him in a quiet tone, “I am… new to this.”

“As am I,” Darius answers in turn (he doesn’t confess that he has loved Garen for so long now, that he has wished for anything close to this for so long; why chase another when you’ve found your love at the very beginning?). Garen nods once in response, his skin still warm to the touch and holding the same dusting of pink, so obvious against his pale skin. Even in this uncertainty, though, he is not alone. It is comforting.

  
**ii.**

Garen takes Darius’s hand and places the older man’s other hand on his waist, raising their now clasped palms in the proper pose.

“Follow my lead,” the Captain says, an amused smile still lingering on his lips despite the circumstances of Darius again running off another instructor. Darius grunts in response, still somewhat annoyed, but he has to learn this dance for the sake of their wedding. If only his tutors weren’t so annoying, too meek or too boisterous, how could Demacians stand to be so overtly formal? It baffles him.

Darius is slow to follow, minding his steps so as to not to tred on Garen’s feet. Garen in turn notices how the other man’s gaze continues to glance downwards to their steps, so he slows his pace.

“You know, you are lucky I know this waltz,” Garen comments idly, still smiling slightly as he leads the other man through their steps. “I am not the best dancer otherwise.”

Darius can’t help but chuckle softly, a deep rumble that seems to finally pull him from the deeply set frown he had before. The thought amused him, truthfully, that Garen can be so talented but dancing is an art that escapes him.

“Is that so?” he asks, his entertainment ever so slightly evident in the lilt of his voice. “Lucky for me, then.”

Garen only sighs briefly, but his smile has not faded as they move slowly through the room. He reaches up and presses a chaste kiss to the corner of Darius’s lips, his steps slow for the show of affection.

“Is that part of the dance, too?” Darius asks, obviously teasing.

  
**iii.**

“C’mon big guy, gotta have a little more energy than that!”

Garen sighs with exasperation, holding back the innate urge to groan and rub his temples. It’d be rude to do otherwise, considering Draven was now technically his brother-in-law. He resumes the starting position once again, his determination carrying him through the difficult task of learning a Noxian folk dance. It would only be fair, considering Darius had learned the Demacian ballroom dancing.

“Must you be the one teaching me? Why not your brother?”

The aforementioned brother was seated within the room, though he was content to watch rather than participate (somewhat amused, too). He keeps the slight grin that spreads onto his features ever so often behind curled fingers that rest against his chin, index finger extended to lay against his cheek.

“Draven is much better at it than I am,” Darius answers, tilting his chin up to speak without his hand hindering his volume. The response doesn’t seem to suffice for Garen, who frowns as he turns to meet the other man’s eyes. It only amuses Darius further, though; he could be so charming even when he was frustrated.

“Try to show him the steps slower, Draven,” he adds as he turns his gaze towards his brother, who huffs and pushes his lips to one corner, cheek bulging out with a furrowed brow.

“I have been,” Draven says, fists resting on his hips while a scowl sits on his face. Darius only shrugs in response, to which Draven rolls his eyes and turns to face the Demacian instead.

Again, Draven shows him each step, and he is admittedly slower this time despite his attitude before. After each movement, Garen imitates it, and Draven telling him to adjust his stance or his hands appropriately. They’re able to go through the dance at the same, agonizingly slow pace in its entirety for the first time in several hours, much to Garen’s relief. His chest heaves and he sighs, content that progress was finally being made.

The real challenge was completing the dance in real time without making a fool of himself.

“We’ll keep at this tomorrow, ‘m tired as hell.” Draven waves a hand in the air, his other hand resting at the back of his neck. Darius had told him Garen wasn’t skilled in dancing, but he didn’t know a man so sure on his feet in battle could be so slow when it came to the art (then again, dancing had always been easy for Draven).

Garen nods after his ‘instructor’ gives his dismissal, silently thankful himself. There was only so much he could tolerate making a fool of himself. Darius rises from the armchair he was sitting in when his brother leaves, joining Garen by his side.

“I do admire your insistence to do this,” he says when he joins him, looking down towards the Demacian as he turns to face him. Those blue eyes look up to him and they’re so lovely, always have been, blue so rich they’re like the deep sea.

“It is only fair,” Garen answers him, his expression beginning to soften as it does when they’re left to themselves. “You learned our waltz, I think it is only polite I would learn this dance for your festival.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” Garen doesn’t let him finish, firmly stating himself. He did want to learn it, he wanted to show that he truly cared, and he wanted to show his appreciation. Regardless of how difficult he found it, or how often he needed to practice, he would do so. He loved Darius.

His answer earns him a smile from Darius, a slight pull on one corner of his lips. His answer also earns him a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, Darius’s fingers curling underneath his chin to tilt his head upwards. Garen makes sure to turn his head, to kiss the other man properly.

  
**iv.**

“Darius—”

When Garen turns to him, smiling, Darius cannot help but return his own with the slightest pulls at the corners of his lips. His happiness shines like the sun, spreads through the room like warmth, Garen himself brings Darius happiness.

“Welcome home.”

Those words, too, bring him happiness. To know that they can be home together, that he can be welcomed by the one he’s loved for so long, it’s a wonderful kind of joy. He hums in response to Garen’s words, matching pace with him until they finally meet.

Darius’s hands come to rest at the Captain’s waist as he looks into those bright blue eyes that are like the sea and the sky alike. Garen’s hands come to his forearms, smiling and looking up at him as if he is a sight to be marvelled. Garen had taught him the greeting some time before, so when he moves upwards to press his cheek against Darius’s own, he meets the gesture, mirroring the motion with the other cheeks as well.

It was a Demacian greeting shared between loved ones and family. It reminded Darius that he was indeed loved, that they were woven together like twine into a new family, a new existence. One of harmony and change. Darius follows the greeting with a kiss to Garen’ forehead.

 

**v.**

The landscape of Noxus was truly quite beautiful during the spring and summer months. Rolling hills and thick forests, even rows of growing crops, and wide stone roads. It was peaceful riding through them, much different from the bustle of Demacian Capital, or the high mountains and flowing waters of his birthplace. The warm, richly colored brick and stone paths contrasted the smooth white petricite of Demacia. Riding through Noxus was becoming rather relaxing for him, enough so that it makes the trip to see his love that much easier to endure.

They still had their responsibilities to their people and their soldiers, so they spent plenty of time apart. It is what makes him so eager to see the other man after so long away from each other, and it is the very thought that he can see Darius that makes him thankful and joyful. Garen has made sure to bring Darius’s favorite blend of tea with him, too, as a small gift.

When Garen does arrive at Darius’s home, excitement has begun to bud in him like a garden, flowering within his own chest. His head is held high, smile beginning to grow on his lips.

The happiness he feels grows immensely when he finally sees Darius again.

His smile stretches wide across his lips, nearly beaming. He gives his greeting out of politeness, though his smile does not diminish in any way. “I missed you,” he ends up saying, his heart showing itself readily and early, though he has no fear in doing so.

“I missed you as well,” Darius answers, his hands resting against Garen’s forearms. He presses his forehead to Garen’s, eyes closing as he inhales and they stay like that momentarily, feeling each other’s warmth and silence. When Darius opens his eyes, Garen is still smiling at him, warm and soft.

“I brought you some tea from home,” he says, pulling out the package he had tucked under his arm. “Your favorite, of course. I thought you would enjoy some.” Darius humans his thanks, his hand rising to curl a finger underneath the Demacian’s chin and tilt it upwards. A chaste kiss follows, gentle and sweet, and Darius finally turns to let Garen enter his home.

“Tea sounds nice.”


End file.
